You Build Me Up, You Knock Me Down
by EraseAlpha
Summary: Rose falls in love with Roxy and confesses. Despite not feeling the same way, Roxy embarks on the relationship, too afraid to hurt her. But she can only keep lying for so long.


Her words are daggers to your heart. They reach deep within you, cutting through your ribs and settling in your core. Every pause in her speech is a twist of the knife and you're sure you're going to die, she's going to kill you and leave you on the ground to bleed out, but words and sounds can't kill you and you remain alive, as she tells you she loves you.

She shouldn't love you, not in this way. It was never meant to be like this.

You won the game, you settled in New York together. You thought you were happy.

Now she wants more from you, more than friendship, more than your biological daughter should want.

But you love her too, even if not like that. You love her so much.

You love her enough to lie.

She kisses you. You try not to retch.

You'll be with her for a while, you think, just enough to make her see it won't work. Then you can break up, you can go away, you can be free and maybe she won't be hurt.

It gets easier with time. You get used to it. Sometimes you're watching TV on a cold night, curled up with her and she kisses you all over. You actually rather like it, taking in her heat, feeling her breath on your neck.

One day, she makes you coffee after you drink too much, she kisses the top of your head, makes you some plain toast. You love her but you don't love her enough to make her happy.

You find yourself in a routine, kissing her, telling her you love her, eating together.

But nothing lasts forever and she wants more. She wants all of you, she wants to touch you, wants to bend you over your bed and fuck you.

You don't want to, you can't even think about it, you sit on your bathroom floor with the shower blasting and you cry because you just want to make her happy.

She kisses your lips, your face, your ears, your neck and you push her off. You're not ready, you say, she smiles and nods, she will wait.

You don't think you'll ever be ready.

You like how she looks when she wakes up. Her hair is disheveled and her eyes glossy, a little makeup still around the corners, because she can never get it all off. She yawns and grabs your waist, nuzzling into your neck. You like this. You wish this was enough.

It's late at night and you're halfway to drunk. She kisses you deep and passionate. You have to take another shot to wash down the taste. Her lips are on your neck, your breasts, your stomach, your hips.

You can't say no.

You're lying on the floor in a heap, more messed up than you've ever been, her breath scalding on your ear as she rubs and presses against you, and you're blank, empty, your eyes unfocused as you stare at the wall.

Morning comes and bathes her sleeping form in light. She's still draped across you, her hand entangled in your hair. You struggle to make yourself comfortable but it's not working. You simply feel raw and bare.

She makes you breakfast while you shower. You scrub yourself until you're red all over but you simply don't feel clean.

She's smiling slyly, grinning when she sees you even. She's happy. You're not but you put on a brave face because you love her, even if you don't love her the same.

You sit in the living room idly watching TV and trying not to burst into tears as she knits idly. Her hand brushes your thigh and you stiffen. You know it's hard for her to show affection, so you smile and giggle and pretend to be okay.

You don't think you will be okay ever again.

Your stashes of booze quickly deplete. You start spending more time outside the house.

One night you're lying on the floor of some bar when she calls you. You reject the call and laugh, just laugh until they kick you out.

She's still up when you get home, eyes slightly moist and puffy. She's not happy with you. You feel guilty but as you lie on your own bed in what feels like forever, you realize you've never been more relieved.

So you stay out late, make sure she's mad at you.

Sometimes you see yourself as a coward.

Sometimes you think you've been brave enough.

Everything falls into place one night. It's 4 am and you're just drunk enough to throw caution away, but not enough to be incoherent.

She once again stayed up late for you; at this point you're sure she just does it to admonish you.

For once, her voice is a little louder, the tone a little harsher. You tell her off and she can barely contain herself, she's almost screaming at you in her own way.

You scream back and you scream for real because you're drunk and past the breaking point. She looks taken back, quivers slightly, looks downwards and shuffles her feet.

You yell more because her lack of rage infuriates you. She should be bitching you out, acting like a petulant child, but she does nothing but stand there and stare at you, her eyes getting wetter. She breathes in shakily and you know she's barely holding herself together at this point. Her eyeliner is smudging at the corners of her eyes, her fingers clench the edge of her sleeves and she asks if you still love her.

I never did you say before you can control yourself.

For a moment, you stare at each other. She opens her mouth, once, twice, three times before dropping her head and walking out the house.

You sit on the couch and your gaze is fixed on the wall. You've never felt this sober before.

You're not sure if you're supposed to go after her.

So you don't.

She comes back a few days later. She looks at you meekly, withdrawn into herself. Without a word, she locks herself in her bedroom.

You're not sure what you can do. You've hurt her deeply, you lied, you broke her heart.

You just wanted her to be happy.

You leave food at her door and it's gone by the morning. Sometimes you'll try to talk to her, but she ignores you.

Eventually she comes out, mostly ignoring you.

One evening you both walk into the living room.

You begin to walk back, you can eat in the kitchen but she grabs your wrist.

She asks if you even care about her and your heart shatters.

Of course I do, you respond, more than anything.

But you don't love me, she inquires.

You say you do love her.

Just not in the same way she does.

She stares at you vacantly.

You want to pull her in a hug, stroke her hair and whisper that it will be okay.

But you know it won't be.

You move out next week, fly to Washington, stay with Jane.

You try to call her sometimes but the phone is disconnected and it takes all of your willpower to keep yourself from stealing Dad's car and driving cross-country.

John and Jane don't look you in the eyes most of the time and you don't blame them, after your yearlong incestuous relationship.

Sometimes you see her online when you're talking to Dirk late at night but she logs off before you manage to say anything.

At this point, you're not sure if you want to.

Eventually, you have to go back, pick up all your things because you're obviously not going to move back in.

She's staring out the window when you arrive.

Her words are daggers to your heart. It reaches deep within you, cutting through your ribs and settling in your core. Every pause in her speech is a twist of the knife and you're sure you're going to die, she's going to kill you and leave you on the ground to bleed out, but words and sounds already killed you and you're as good as dead, as she tells you she still loves you and she forgives you, that you can move back in.

You lie on your bed and you cry because she forgave you but you can't forgive yourself and you never will.


End file.
